The Wisteria Lane Horrors: Book III: Deadly Touch
by bloodrosered
Summary: Jonathan Moore and his daughter, Natalie, leave their hometown and move to Wisteria Lane. And, of course, they have a secret. Mortals, beware the touch of Natalie Moore, for she steals life's breath!


**The Wisteria Lane Horrors**

Book III: Deadly Touch

Chapter One

It was a cold night on Christmas Eve. Maria and Jonathan Moore were at a Christmas party with their friends. Maria's belly was swollen with child. She rubbed it, feeling the baby kick and move inside her womb. She and her husband had tried in vain to have a baby since they were newlyweds. When they finally got the exciting news that Maria was expecting, she wept with joy.

Soon, Maria's back began to ache, her womb leapt painfully and there was a burst of wet. Fluid dribbled down her thighs. She knew it was time. She whispered to Jonathan that they had to go, which he nodded in agreement. Together, they announced their parting and went to the hospital.

Maria screamed in pain during the whole drive to the hospital; she felt the powerful and painful contraction; she gripped the sides of the seat. Her husband screamed assuring words in vain over his wife's banshee screams in an attempt to calm her down.

Once they got to the hospital, Maria screamed terrible shrieks that didn't sound human. They wheeled her to the operating room, stripping off her sweaty, wet party clothes and dressing her in a gown, booties, and hair cap. Her husband stood by her side, holding her hand; she held it in a death grip. Doctors came in, gowned and gloved, ready to deliver the baby. The OB/GYN squatted between Maria's legs, shouting instructions over Maria's banshee shrieks. Contractions rolled like powerful tsunami waves, sweat poured from her brow and soaked her hair. EKGs beeped rapidly as Maria pushed with every ounce of energy, forcing the stubborn baby out of its cozy, dark nest.

Soon, the baby wailed loudly when it entered the cold bright world, shivering. It was covered in blood and attached to an umbilical cord; arteries throbbed beneath the bloody, gray rope. "It's a girl," the doctor announced, holding the baby towards the proud parents.

Maria took one look at her baby with a sweaty, exhausted smile and suddenly, her eyes rolled and she collapsed on the bed; the EKG beeped a loud, monotonous flatline. The doctors shoved Jonathan out of the room and gathered around Maria, attempting to revive her.

Jonathan waited outside, his head buried in his hands, worried. He had gained a child, but was losing his wife. A few minutes later, the doctor came out, looking very grim. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moore," he said. "We did everything we could...she didn't make it..."

Jonathan lowered his head, devastated. His beautiful, raven-haired wife was dead. He sobbed quietly into his hands.

In the nursery, a nurse went in to bathe the newly born baby, cleaning off the blood and afterbirth. The baby was rosy pink and had black, fuzzy hair. The baby blinked, staring around at the bright, strange nurse stared intently at the baby...its eyes were black as night. The nurse gently placed the baby into the tub. Her bare forearm brushed against the baby's soft flesh and suddenly, she fell dead on the floor...the baby screamed at the loud thud, frightened.

Jonathan heard a baby's wail and went to look. He saw two legs, sprawled on the ground and went towards the nursery. He saw the nurse laying face down. He felt for a pulse. None. He looked at the crying baby and saw those black eyes! The child did this! The child killed his wife and a nurse! It had to be destroyed! He slipped latex gloves on and was about to submerge it into the bloody water when he saw the striking resemblance of his wife: black hair, upturned nose, and eyes. He felt weak...he couldn't kill his child.

He shook, sobbing quietly as he looked at the baby, who was now smiling at him. He picked up the sponge and cleaned the blood off the baby.

"I'll always protect you," he whispered. "Natalie."

XXXX

Years later, Natalie Maria Moore grew into a beautiful child: she had shiny black curls, ebony eyes with thich lashes, porcelain skin, and full lips that expressed silence. She looked like a porcelain doll.

Jonathan watched his daughter grow up, yet he wished that he could have some physical contact: give a hug, stroking her silky hair, a goodnight kiss, and wipe her tears when she cried. He had his daughter wear gloves and he wore gloves when he had to make physical contact.

Natalie didn't realize she had this curse until she was three. She spotted a kitten outside and wanted to show her father, hoping she could ask if they could keep it. When she picked it up, it fell limp in her hands. She cried.

"Daddy, I killed the kitty!" she sobbed.

Her father looked grim and wanted to cry when he saw his daughter's sad face. Jonathan knew that he had to tell her. He told her that everything she touched would die, that's why she wore gloves and long clothes.

"It's not your fault," he said.

And he kept on telling her that.

He kept people away from his daughter, knowing and afraid of what would happen. When people stopped by, he would keep the door halfway open, saying he was busy and close the door in their face. He refused any social event and kept to himself. He was often seen by his neighbors fixing his truck, painting the house, and mowing his lawn. He home-schooled Natalie.

When Natalie was fifteen, she was lonely and wanted to be with other people. She loved her father very much, but she wanted to have friends. She asked her father if she could go to school, promising to keep her gloves on, which he reluctantly agreed. He knew he couldn't keep his daughter cooped up in the house forever.

Natalie enrolled a preparatory school. She caught the attention of her peers with her angel face, ebony ringlets, and flawless, poreless skin. The girl envied her flawless beauty. Yet, the boys gave her the most attention, especially Connor Stephens, the mayor's son.

XXXX

Natalie ran, sobbing, terrified. She didn't stop until she got home; her eyes were red and puffy, tear streaked. Her father looked up from his mail and at his daughter.

"Dad," she said, her lip quivering.

"Nattie, what happened?" he asked, concerned.

"It was an accident." She told him what happened. He told her those four assuring words once again:

"It's not your fault."

Jonathan knew that the police were already investigating the death of the mayor's son. He was also sure that the mayor would hire private detectives to find out who was responsible. He couldn't lose his daughter for something he couldn't help: her deadly touch that stole life's breath away.

He told his daughter to pack her things, to be ready once the case was put on the back burners. Where would they go, he didn't know.


End file.
